Crimson Tears
by Outcast-Loser
Summary: Charles voice quieted on the other end of the phone, followed only by deep breathing. "Charles, you where telling me the killer? Charles. Charles!" then a raspy reply: "I'm sorry, Mister Xavier is occupied at the moment." And the line went dead. AU
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I swear that this will be the last multi-chaptered fic that I will be uploading until all three are done (**cries**) I just-PLOT BUNNIES. I blame them,, because one pops up and I plot it, but can't write until the next plot bunny is written and-oh sweet Jesus _School_ is starting soon and I have 3 AP courses and NO ELECTIVE and my brain will fry, updates will **most likely** slow down but that's until September 6th so let's not worry, yes? And Enjoy this chapter, because things get serious, fast, and there will be notes in every chapter because I'm an incredible nerd that will make this fic seem realsitic in _some_ aspects. :I so expect scientific jumbo and math :B

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><p>"Well...Fuck."<p>

It wasn't the reaction William Stryker had expected when he handed Charles the manilla folder. The younger man, Stryker surveyed, seemed someone far off from the man he had been given great detail from-practically the whole Homicide Division had bombarded him after bringing up the name "Charles Xavier". The more abundant cadets, the typical police department pencil-pushers, and up the echelon to Major Janos Quested, they all had their own two cents to give the Sergeant.

The praises and even grudging acknowledgement ranged from "Kind and compassionate" to "wise and scary as _fuck_". It seemed this "Charles Xavier" was quite the people's person, and to top it all off bright and ingenious, tactful and cunning mixed with a hint of cynicism to those who chose to saty away from the magnetic scientist.

One couldn't imagine the surprise on Sergeant Stryker's face when Charles stumbled into his office. Charles was rumpled and disheveled, his wavy hair curling in random directions, bright blue eyes shining with mirth, rosy lips pulled into a lopsided smile.

No, this wasn't the appearance of the scientist that could strike fear in Major Logan. Eying the young man before him (_he was wearing a cardigan for Christ's sake!_) Stryker motioned for the chair. Charles took a seat silently, his demeanor shifting from playful to serious in less than half a second.

"Sergeant Stryker, I don't mean to _impose_ on your musings but you must have had a reason for having me plucked from my Division to meet you in your office other than to _watch you think_." Charles' voice, despite the underlying sarcasm, is sweet and reasonable, clearly playful in it's thrust to advance the conversation.

"I heard you cracked the code on that _Schätzchens_ Murder." It was a statement and Charles felt a slight flush of indignation course through him. Stryker was suddenly aware of the intensity in the blue hues that glared at him.

"If you're referring to the murder of _John _and _Elaine Grey_," Charles said slowly, each word falling like a heavy brick against Stryker's mind. "Then you should at least have the _decency_ to call them by their names and not some uncouth _label_ printed in tabloids" The scientists' wrath was near palpable and, looking into those furious blue eyes, Stryker felt something stir within him and an unfamiliar knot form in his throat. "They are still human, though deceased, _Sergeant, _I do hope you remember _that_."

_'Terrifying._' Stryker thought as he swallowed the hard rock that lodged itself in his esophagus.

"Regardless," Stryker had started once more, and any fear he might have felt fled as he straightened his back and tensed his shoulders. "Since you have shown some true _potential_ on this case, I'll assign for you to be teamed with my most prominent Detective-the best in the Department," the last few words where marred by Stryker's clear cynicism. "You'll be starting today, but no actual field work until we have all the paperwork filed away for you to go and inspect the scene with all those weird _gadgets-_"

"If that is all, Sergeant Stryker, I would much rather return to my division with those _weird gadgets_ to solve the other thousands of crimes you and your men _can't_ solve, and, please, don't barrage my Division with your nonsensical ramblings when it's Division X that makes it possible for _your_ sector to catch the criminals."

Once again Stryker was taken aback at the unfiltered retort, yet strangely pleased at the same time. He clearly learned why some of his underlings where frightened and others where charmed; it would be wise to watch his words around Charles.

"Apologies, Xavier, I hadn't meant to slander your Division." Stryker apologized, and found he _actually_ meant it. "However, since you're a part of this case now, it would be wise of you to gain at least the bare minimum of information on your new partner, so take this-" here Stryker handed Charles the manilla folder he had on his desk-"and you can return to your work, if you'd like." Charles took the folder and read the name and leads us back to the _now._

"Well...fuck."

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><p><em>Their breaths where thick with alcohol, the stench foul but their lips-so sweet, pressing and rubbing against each other took away the bitterness of the vodka and the burning of the whiskey. Their tongues, slick and moist, danced together in a sensual dance and one of the two moaned as a straying hand found purchase at the juncture between hip and abdomen, caressing the peeking flesh there.<em>

_When asked, neither would know how it started, how they ended up in the office, on top of a desk, how things had escalated from simple, friendly chatter into something so hot and passionate, sloppy and-_

_"Erik-" Charles breathed, his lips free from the assault, redder and slicker than before. His eyes where dark with lust behind half-closed lids, cheeks flushed with arousal. Erik was breathing hard before Charles, standing hunched between Charles' spread legs, warm, large hands on the spread thighs, head bowed and clothes rumpled, hair a mess._

_"Charles" Erik growls, his hands moving so achingly slow up Charles' thighs, burning his already heated skin and forcing shudders up his spine. Charles' back arches and his hand, the one clutching Erik's neck, moves forward to smother their breaths with more messy kisses; the hand against the other man's hips finger the hem of the jeans, one finger dipping into the warm skin there, but makes no move to push past the boundary._

_Their prominent arousals collide as Charles arches his back and Erik bucks his hips simultaneously, their kiss interrupted by Charles' loud moan. Erik, dead-set and determined on hearing that delicious sound once more, presses himself closer to the smaller man, pressing their hips and groins and chests flat against each other, their lips brushing with each hard jerk and each thrust forward. Charles' hand clutches Erik's short, slicked back hair tightly, forcing the man's head back before reclaiming those lips that pant with each hard grind._

_Erik's hands had long ago moved, one bracing the two against the desk, the other mussing Charles' thick, wavy hair, keeping their faces close together, even as Charles groaned and panted._

_"Erik, Erik-ahh-so, so close, hnggg-" Charles moaned, watching Erik's completely blissed out expression-his face was the epitome of beauty and want, lust and sin and Charles found himself embarrassingly close to the edge while just watching Erik-_

_"Charles I-"_

_"Charles! We were-" _

_Erik and Charles stopped (much to the latter's chagrin) and turned to stare at a gawking and blushing Moira in the doorway, a bottle of some type of clear liquor in one hand and a cell phone in the other. Charles dimly registered the memory of lending his phone to Moira a half-hour earlier, but the sound of his heart drumming in his ears and the throbbing of his aching arousal against the half undone zipper of his pants distracted him. Erik glanced at Charles before backing away and leaving the room entirely-through a door on the left, leaving a very shocked, very aroused Charles in his wake._

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><p>Charles remained stoic after the small outburst, his hands still on the thin folder, the only words legible from outside "Erik Lehnsherr".<br>He remembered why he hardly liked the department. Actually, he liked this Department, had no ill will to Moira, his best friend, and Janos, the poor soul who's desk he and E-"He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named" nearly desecrated.

He didn't have a problem with the department.

And it wasn't that Erik Lehnsherr was a bad detective. Far from it.

The problem lies on the fact that they both get loose and friendlier with a little alcohol.

Cue Charles' embarrassing memory of being caught mid way through a heavy, drunk make out\grindage session on a fellow officer's desk, being _caught _by his Best Friend Moira and his current flustered and tense persona would be completely understandable. You'd _feel_ for the poor guy.

_"Well...Fuck" indeed. _

Charles stood, holding the folder in his hand and walked out without a word. In the few awkward seconds of remembering the _incident_, Charles had willed himself to look at everything in a professional level._ 'Besides',_ Charles thought, glaring at the folder in his tightly clenched hands,'_ it was one time, maybe twice...point is it wasn't like he meant it, and we were both drunk and-and Erik-I mean "He-That-Shall-not-Be-Named" didn't mean it, we're looking for a killer and I have to focus on that instead of-'_

Charles' eyes went wide as his attention sprang to the tall man turning the same corner failed to notice him. A few seconds too late, the two collided and fell in a heap of limbs. Charles groaned as his head crashed into the floor, the man landed on his arm and the room spun in circles.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Charles' eyes snapped open at the sound of the smooth, husky baritone.

_'Of all the people,'_ Charles groans,' _It had to be him_"

"I'm fine," Charles starts, but the minute his upper body starts to move forward the room shifts and everything turns on it's side; it's until Erik's arms wind round Charles_' _mid-section does he realize that he was falling again. Erik stands and pulls the dazed and confused Charles on his feet along with him, before bending down to pick up the manilla folder, Charles' eyes following the action before remembering-

"So it's _you_" Erik says and Charles flinches at the accusing tone. "I'm going to have to work with _you?_"_  
><em>

"Yes. well I'm _dreadfully_ sorry it bothers you so much" Charles retorts, snatching the folder from Erik. Erik's chartreuse eyes follow the movement, flickering with some benign emotion Charles doesn't want to translate. Instead Charles straightens up, tucks the folder under one arm before bracing himself against the wall. "Still, if you _want_ to catch the killer, you'll need my help, so just grin and bear it until we're done." Charles mumbles, eyes searching for a safe haven to keep him from staring at Erik's tones arms, the black shirt not leaving anything to curiosity, the muscles in his chest defined, the dark navy pants and the handsome features twisted into-

"I don't want to work with you."

_What?_

Charles finds his gaze snapping up to Erik's, his cheeks reddening in indignation.

"Pardon me?" Charles asks, incredulous.

"I don't want to work with you." Erik repeats, spacing out each word individually. Charles knows-he _knows_ that something so stupid shouldn't make him angry but it is, and he's getting furious and annoyed and-and_ upset_ and Erik is being childish-for god's sake, they're supposed to be _professionals_ because there's a killer out there and innocent people are expecting them to do their job yet here Erik is, arms crossed and eyes sharp as he glares at Charles like he's done something wrong; like a young boy being castigated by a parent or teacher.

"What the-"

All and any words that Charles was going to retort with where wiped from his mind when, in two solid steps, Erik was before him, a fist leveled beside Charles' face, only inches away from contact. "You should stay in your labs, Charles, where you belong." _'Where you're safer'_

The silence and tension was smoldering between them, and sparks flew when their eyes met. Charles but back a barrage of colorful terms and phrases that wanted to spew from his mouth and placed a hand on Erik's chest. Erik's hitching breath was lost on Charles as he shoved the taller man away from him. Hard.

No one could deny that the Scientist was stronger than he looked.

Once Erik was far enough, Charles dislodged himself from against the wall, ignoring the throbbing in his head as he walked through the silent hallway.

"We're going to the scene tomorrow, and we will catch this killer." His voice came to Erik, who bit his lip and clenched his fist. "Whether you want me by your side or not."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** We get some info on Division X, We meet another Lab Rat and the boys go to the scene of the crime where Charles finally sees the message from the killer..!~ BTW I LOVE Gattaca. I suggest y'all watch it :3 I may put references... or not... XD And I don't know NY. I live in LA so I'ma move some places I know there, just for the sake of it :P Sorry~!

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><p>"Division X" is a division of the city that wasn't kept under wraps or hidden from the public eye. The facility appeared normal enough: three stories, block-like building with rectangular windows guarded by flimsy mint curtains. That was, of course, what the public saw. The sign before the building was plain and boring, in standard black text on a pearly white backwash: "Department of Research, Evidence Analysis &amp; Forensics". All in all it was a boring, dreary building with a mundane reason of existence.<p>

That was, of course, only what was _above_ ground.

Underground, there where three _more_ stories, each named and labeled with arches before each entry. The first chamber was known as the _Labia_ or _"The Lips"_ where every worker and incoming visitor would have to pass through first. "_The Lips"_ where responsible for all incoming messages, each incoming personnel and packages into the other two chambers. Nothing grand was expected of the workers here; metal detectors, various wands of some sorts where on the front desks, readily in hand for workers to use on suspicious packages and incoming visitors.

The security was strict; it _had _to be. Especially for the next two floors.

The second floor below the _Labia_ was known as the _Atrium_. Here, in the heart of the underground complex, forensic evidence, bodies, limbs, DNA samples-everything having to do with the human body or fluids and et cetera was rummaged through, contained in vials and frozen in _Hades, _the _Inferos_ for storage and further examination. The workers here had much less restrictions on their research than average morgues and Forensics.

Then below the heart, under the _Atrium_ was _Cerebro_. Cerebro was hardly inhabited, run only by one Charles Xavier and about six underlings, but each would be too absorbed in their own work to actually socialize amongst one another. Their sector was almost completely free, taking on the unrealistic, almost unbelievable cases that normal police officers would never, _ever_ close. Things like "_Quantum Physics_", "_Electrodynamics_" and _"Psychoanalyzes"_ where the norm here; the truly extraordinary was ingested here, dissected and turned thrice on it's head until every possible theory known to man, and even some that had not yet been explored or published, where tested.

Some of the research from _Cerebro_ spilled into the _Atrium_, but only the brighter, more social of _Cerebro's_ scientists would do so, like Stark or Xavier. Those two where loved by the facility; Stark for his bluntness and savvy ways, Charles for his kindness and charm.

And so it was as Charles entered the _Labia_, looking a little angry as he waited patiently for the small console to prick his finger and take the little droplet of blood. This manner of entering the chambers was the least liked but it spent less time than waiting for one of the workers to come, take all metal off his person and then go across the metal detector only to retrieve his belongings once more.

He didn't want to inadvertently _snap_ at someone because of some stupid _asshole_ of a Detective was being childish.

Not that it was bothering him. No, not at all. Not in the least.

Charles sulked his way down the empty, chrome hallway, watching his shoes as his steps echoed in the empty passage. He passed the thin folder to his other hand as he pressed a button on the elevator marked "_Cerebelum_". Charles waited impatiently, tapping on the folder absentmindedly with his forefinger, his head tipped back and blue eyes scanning the motion light atop the slim doors.

"Heeeey, Charles, whatcha' got there?"

Charles mentally groaned.

Stark was a cool guy. Funny, snarky, smart as hell but when in the wrong mood he was just flat out _annoying._ He seemed to be just a little more arrogant than usual, if possible. There was a movement behind Charles and suddenly he was turned around and pressed against the space between the two elevators (which were taking an _unusually_ long time. Really, there were only _three_ floors), a hard, muscled body pressed against his.

"Tony..." Charles nearly growled before reeling in his anger. Stark always did this-tease him mercilessly since they went out for drinks with Moira, who had let slip the little show she accidentally walked in on. He'd find any opportunity to bring up Erik and desks and- oh _sweet Jesus_ Stark took the folder and turned his back on Charles, reading aloud:

"Name: Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. Joined the police force oh-four, has one living sibling, a sister named Em-"

"Stark! Stop that!" Charles hadn't even tried to overpower his fellow scientist. It was a moot point, since Tony was dead set on doing something he'd bend heaven and hell to do it.

"Wow, Charles, already resorting to _stalking_?" Tony teased, handing back the small folder. "I mean, the guy's not half-bad looking, and it seems like he has a thing for you but c'mon, can't you just grow a pair and ask him out. Which I don't understand why you'd want him when I've offered you an extraordinary night in my bed _plenty _of times-"

"Elevator is here." Charles said blandly, taking a step into the small, empty compartment. "Good day then!" He smiled as he pressed the _"close doors"_ button, almost laughing at Tony's startled expression.

"_Wait_, we're going to the same-" Tony's arm stretched out but it was too late; the doors clicked shut and there was the tell-tale whirring sound of the cables moving the box down. "-floor."

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><p>"Evening, Hank." Charles greeted with a nod, the smile from earlier still firmly in place. Hank was the latest lab shut-in, a bright young mind with much potential; the young scientist was awkwardly tall, over 6'5'', skinny, wearing glasses that where rimless from below but thick at the top, slightly skewed combed hair and bright brown eyes. His lab coat was a little small length-wise and too long at the sleeves, which were folded up to his shoulders.<p>

"Evening, prof-I mean, Charles." Hank greeted back awkwardly, a light blush dusting his features. After a little talk with Stark, Hank had been convinced that everyone called Charles 'Professor'. Charles quickly and gently reprimanded Hank, telling him that as associates they where on a first-name basis. Stark only smirked at his station as Hank stuttered an apology and left.

In all reality, most of the employees _did_ call Charles 'Professor', due to his usual wardrobe and manner of speaking. As Stark had told Hank, it was also normal for the employees to refer to Charles as "an adorable lab-rat". That one was purely Charles' fault, always so doe-eyed with his pink lips, floppy hair and natural klutziness.

That one was never spoken with Charles around, of course.

"CHARLES YOU DIRTY-" Tony shouted, panting and leaning against the entrance. "Oh, hello McCoy" Tony quickly greeted, shifting his gaze to the still blushing scientist. "Charles!" Tony shouted again, stumbling forward on the linoleum floor to catch up to Charles' fast pace. "Seriously, why _do _you have that guy's info?"

Charles stopped at his desk, dropped the folder unceremoniously on a neat stack of papers that he'd have to file later, and dropped onto the chair, skidding slightly before turning to face Tony.

"Okay, first of all: I'm working a case with him, and Stryker gave me the folder to give me some info so it's not all weird when we start working together. Second: What the _hell_ were you doing earlier? You look like you had an orgy with a penguin, a clown and a prostitute. Third of all, no I will _not_ cover for you tomorrow, I'm going to the initial scene of the crime to get more clues, snap some photos but if you want you can clean up your lab today and have tomorrow off." Charles looked completely composed as he spoke but Tony saw the mirth alighting those large blue eyes.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll believe your little story." Tony looked down at his wardrobe and looked at Charles, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, well..." Tony looked down again, at the expensive three thousand dollar tuxedo, marred bu splotches of yellow, pink and lime green blotches of paint, the white fishnet undershirt and the hot pink bow tie that adorned his neck. "To make a long story short I don't think I'm allowed into the _John F. Kennedy_ Ballroom. Or that _Chart House_ restaurant. And there's probably a warrant for my arrest again." Tony looked up as Charles laughed, and eventually joined in himself.

"New record: it's hardly past ten thirty!" Charles joked, looking at his watch. "Yes, well, you know that if you need bail, I'm number three on your speed-dial." Charles laughed, leaning back in his chair. Tony only chucked and nodded before going to his station to clean up.

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><p>Charles was sitting on the steps outside of the apartment complex, scrutinizing the awful photos paper-clipped together in the folder, along with neatly written notes and names, numbers and details. His eyes where trained on the photo, though.<p>

_Such brutality..._

Charles looked calmly out of place in the suburban neighborhood; his typical cardigan and undershirt, trousers and lab coat had been exchanged for some jeans, a gray t-shirt and a tight black sweater, much more fitting for scouting the scene in the cold November winds. Though it was already mid afternoon, about 2:30, the looming clouds left the day feeling slower, older, eerier. The apartment that stood silently behind Charles was devoid of all life, the street was silent, an aftershock of the heinous murders.

The _caution_, _keep out_ tape fluttered in the bone-chilling wind, breaking the silence with the wind's howl.

_There were two people; one was a male, about 5'7'' with shirt gray-brown hair, emerald eyes and a squared jaw, between the ages of 34-40. The second was a female, approximately 5'5'' with medium length, auburn-red hair, hazel eyes also between the ages of 34-30. The two have been determined to be John and Elaine Grey, ages 36 and 35._

_John Grey's body was found sprawled on the floor ten feet away from the front door. The man's face was beaten so badly it was hard to make out any prominent features, the back of his skull was caved in and the amount of blood on the floor was enough for the victim to have bled to death in only seconds._

_Elaine Grey;s body was found crumpled on the steps_-

Charles stood up quickly, eyes prickling with tears as he sifted through the photos, watching each gory scene with something akin to disgust and repulsion bubbling under his skin. He skimmed through the next photos, cataloging the information provided, the bodies, the sheer-

_She had been hit with a hard metallic object to be determined by forensics; she had screamed out for help, alarming a few neighbors. By the time the closest neighbor (information listed below) came out with a loaded 32. revolver, the murderer had fled. She dialed for 911 but paramedics report that the two where DOS*._

"You should have told me you where going to be here." Erik's voice broke Charles' thoughts. Charles looked up at Erik, in a black turtleneck, dark blue pants and bulging folder. "Are you... are you okay?" Erik asked slowly, worry washing over his features. Charles was going to say 'yes' but the sound came out as a choked out sob.

He hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down his face.

"Ah, yes, I'm terribly sorry, I-" Charles stopped when Erik came closer, ducked under the fluttering tape, and wiped his tears.

"I know this the first case you're going to be working hands-on with, and there's a stark difference between seeing photos of people and being in the place where they met their untimely doom. It's important to know that yes, these people where alive. They had a family, that had friends but you mustn't let that stop you from searching and finding their killer." Erik ducked his head as Charles stared at him, no longer crying but in awe. "So stop crying, because we have to find this killer, just like you said." When Erik pulled away and turned around, Charles nodded.

"Care to show me the scene, Detective Lehnsherr?" Charles asked, his voice a little harsh from the bitter tears. Erik turned with a smirk and nodded, motioning for Charles to follow him as he walked quietly to the tree that stood, shivering, a few feet away.

"It was eight p.m, Wednesday night. John and Elaine Grey had just come home from the office, together like always, when John was assaulted here-" Erik points directly before them, watching Charles. "Elaine tried to fight back but was warded off by John's shouts, and she ran to the house. John fell, here-" Erik's arm moves and he points at the dark pol of dried blood that hadn't faded. "And the murderer caught her on the steps. She fell and died there." Erik stayed quiet, waiting for Charles to speak up.

"I-I see." Charles nodded shakily. "The file says that there was a vial of something sweet-smelling that was found on site, am I correct?" Charles looked towards Erik, who nodded.

"The lab-techs have it at the moment, they're trying to get to the liquid through the glass container."

"Can you have it sent to my labs?" Charles asked, cocking his head at an angle. Erik cleared his throat and nodded, not trusting his voice. "Great" Charles grinned "Which means I should probably get you clearance, that place is awfully strict. Oh, please, continue." Charles shook his head, before he started to trail off into nonsensical conversation.

"There was also a message written on the last step, in one of the victim's blood." Erik continued, walking forward towards the front steps. "The officers on site where instructed to erase the message after taking photos, so that the general public wouldn't worry. The problem, however, lies in the _message_. So far it's been too tough to crack." Erik turned to look at Charles, who looked a little too smug at the moment.

"Well, Detective Lehnsherr, there is a reason why I'm on this case with you."

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><p>"Really now, It's so much easier if I explain the code this way than by words." Charles explained, motioning to the napkin between them. In all honesty, the dinner wasn't truly necessary, though a nice tea as he explained the terrifying message would help him greatly. Erik looked slightly amused and had humored the scientist as they took a seat in one of the booths. Charles held the pen in his hand and began to write out the message:<p>

**WXST 13.5. HKLUXK 9. QORR** **.14.**

Erik simply stared at the series of numbers and letters. Charles looked up at Erik expectantly.

"What?" Erik asked, slightly annoyed.

"It's the code, the message the killer wrote." Charles evaluated. He pressed the napkin closer to Erik. "What does it look like?"

"A bunch of letters and numbers." Erik deadpanned. Charles bit back the urge to laugh.

"Erik!"

"Oh, and periods." Erik's blunt answers made Charles want to laugh, but considering the circumstances he figured that'd be a tad bit morose.

"Have you ever heard of the Caesar Cipher?" Charles asked. Erik shrugged but nodded. "It's a substitution method of encryption that Julius Caesar created and used to hide important military information that was being stolen from his messengers. It's also referred to as a shift method because all the letters of the word are shifted three to the right, so A would become D and so forth; this here-" Charles tapped the napkin with his ball point pen. "Is a version of that but slightly modified. The shift goes accordingly to the number of letters in the _word._"

Charles began to write on the napkin once more.

**WXST**

_STOP_

**HKLUXK**

_BEFORE_

**QORR**

_KILL_

Erik watched in mute fascination as Charles made sense of nonsense, made words where there was once only letters. Impressed, Erik pressed Charles on. "Okay, so what's with the numbers?" Erik tapped a long finger against the numbers, eyes locked with the shiny pools of Charles'.

"That is actually easier." Charles nodded towards the napkin. "Only, you won't like the message you'll see..."

"Charles, what_ does_ it say?" Erik asked openly, a slight tug of apprehension pulling at his heart. "_Charles._" Charles ignored Erik in favor of writing on the napkin.

"It's a simpler method of message, each number is a letter on the alphabet." Charles mumbled, placing the pen down and moved the napkin forward.

**WXST 13.5. HKLUXK 9. QORR** **.14.**

_STOP ME BEFORE I KILL AGAIN_

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><p><em>*Dead on Site<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** More scientific Lingo. (Wikipedia for one part...the rest is my own knowledge :3 ) Um...it's set in this year (2011) and the next characters that pop up are really X-men characters. Doug is codenamed "Cipher" if ya' want to check him out. And WOW this chapter became a monster! TT^TT I'm proud...but annoyed XD I just had to build up for the most important part! :D D: ((And I love Poison Ivy. Don't judge me that She's DC and this is Marvel.))

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><p>Erik really couldn't find any words to describe the wave of fear and anger and desperation that overcame him at the message. This person, this <em>beast<em> that had brutally murdered a man and his wife was out there. Out of control. Begging to be stopped, because they couldn't stop themselves.

And all they had to go on was a vial of blue liquid, some microscopic shards of metal and two dead bodies.

"_That_ is why I have to help you, Detective Lehnsherr," Charles tapped the napkin with the tip of his pen. Erik looked up and their gazes locked, determination met with determination. "I won't stand by as this person continues to kill." Charles sighed as he handed Erik one of the small folders that where in his book bag. "And I most definitely don't need _this_." Erik looked at the fairly rumpled manilla folder, his name lining the top portion. "Tell Stryker that I don't need to know my partner's past to work well with him." Erik looked at the folder blankly for a few seconds before placing a few loose bills on the table. Charles looked at him quizzically before being jerked out of his seat by Erik's firm grasp on his hand.

"_Bloody hell_ Detective Lehnsherr, what are you-"

"Erik." Erik cut Charles off. Charles looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and Erik evaluated. "My name is _Erik._ Since we're going to be partners it's best that we leave out the formalities, yes?" Erik continued to storm out of the Diner, a light flush on his cheeks as his hand tightened around Charles'. Charles smiled as he stumbled behind the taller man, trying to keep hold on his book-bag.

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><p>After one short, very awkward and tense car ride (after vain complaints of "<em>I drove to the scene, Erik, how will I get home!<em>") the two arrived in the parking lot of the police department. Charles was fairly sure of two things: one, he was never ever going to take a ride with Erik, ever; and that there was something unnerving about the time he spent with Erik. This was a bloody murder they where solving.

They had no time for futile, one-sided romances.

So Charles swallowed thickly and turned to the building. Last he had checked, it was somewhere between three and four in the afternoon; at six he had to pick up Raven from her latest class and then go to the lab, file away some paper work and go home for some much deserved is, of course, unless Sean needed help with his calculus. Or if Angel missed her ride. Or if Raven needed help, too.

Charles really, really missed sleep.

"C'mon, we're going to get you that vial and try to get me clearance into Division X." Erik said carefully as he steppe out of the mustang, boots skidding against the concrete. Charles, still a little car-sick, swayed a bit and stumbled forward before catching his step and matching Erik's entered through the main entrance, catching the eye of some of the woman (an men) of the main room. Erik only nodded at the receptionist and the door swung open for them. They went down a long hallway filled with various doors with names painted on the small label beside them.

Then there was the door. It was without label, to the right of the hallway where the two had their slight squabble the day before.

Stryker's door.

And from the tensing of Erik's shoulders, the slight heaviness to his step, it was apparent that Erik didn't like the man. In fact, Charles didn't have to know anything about psychology to know that Erik didn't like Stryker.

Moira had told him a long time ago, about how Stryker had once taken Erik into custody and appeared only hours later, bruised and bleeding but no less determined to continue on his search for the one responsible for the deaths of two young teens. The drug ring in the city became involved; and with that little stunt it was clear that Stryker wasn't one with his hands cleaned.

There was no evidence, but it was clear.

The door opened and lightly taped the wall, despite the power used to throw it open. Charles followed Erik as they entered the office, unbidden and unannounced. Stryker was hunched over his desk, looking over some paper work when they had barged in, and the two stood before the large mahogany desk. They simply stood and waited before Stryker glanced up at the two.

"What do ya' want?" He grunted.

"We need permission for all of the evidence taken from the scene of the crime to be transferred to Division X." Erik stated plainly, sounding bored if not slightly annoyed. Charles glanced from Erik to Stryker and back before breathing in slowly. The two where the epitome of tense, and the underlying aggression was smoldering to the scientist. "And I need clearance to enter the catacombs there." Erik finished.

"Go to the others for the paper work and have that girl Moira sign it out to you." Was all Stryker said. He made no reference to the clearance and sure wasn't making any move to, so Charles dragged Erik out of the office and back into the space outside the office. Erik looked like he wanted to say something, maybe curse his superior but didn't, and instead chose to bite at his lip.

Erik turned and walked into the connected room, silently fuming. Charles was still behind him when a voice spoke up.

"I _knew_ you two would end up together!" Charles and Erik both turned quickly in time to see Moira jump over a desk and run towards them. It was too late to dodge the woman's jump and Charles soon found himself being squished against her rough uniform and Erik's soft turtleneck. "I _KNEW_ it! Sean totally owes me!"

"Moira dear, I have _no _idea what you mean but if it _is_ what I think then you're surely mistaken." Charles fumbled around, trying to pry himself away from his dear friend.

"There's no shame!" Moira laughed, still pressing the two together. "It's about time because you _both_ have been very terse since that night at the part and-"

"Moira! We're _partners_ for this case!" Charles squeaked indignantly, feeling his face flair. Moira backed away instantly, a strange combination of awe and shock and a wee bit of sadness crossing her features.

"You mean you guys aren't-"

"No." Both Charles and Erik stated in unison.

"Ah. _Ahhh, _I'm sorry about that guys. And um, there is definitely no bet between Me, Raven and Sean. Of course not." Moira nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Uh, so what _are_ you guys doing here then?"

"We need the evidence taken from the Site of the Greys' murder transferred to Division X as soon as possible" Erik told Moira, who was given Charles an apologetic look. "Can you help us with that?"

"Of course." Moira nodded. "Please come with me and we'll get it all signed over to Division X." Moira motioned to Charles. "You can stay here, it'll only be a second." Charles smiled and nodded. The two left in a brisk stride across the room, leaving Charles in their wake. Leave it to Moira to make Charles feel so insecure when he had barely started feeling empowered in the situation. Charles sighed and tilted his head back, leaning against the wall.

"About that clearance" A gruff voice spoke beside Charles. Charles, clearly startled jumped back and stared at Stryker. "Are you sure you want ta' give a guy like Lehnsherr clearance into your division? I mean, no offense but the guy has some wires crossed. Arrogant, violent, a bit of a psychopath and-"

"Listen here, Stryker" Charles growled in pure and utter frustration," You can't _dare _to stand here and lecture me on sociopaths and hypocrites. Among all the people here you are like the black sheep, so coming here to tell me not to trust the partner _you_ assigned for me is a sign of a man who isn't all there." Charles took pride in the shocked expression that befell the man's face. "Erik Lehnsherr may be a tad violent, a bit sardonic, but he's more of a man than you could ever dream to be. If he had been out for your job, like you suspect he _has_, he could have it by now."

"How did you-?" Stryker gasped.

Charles smirked and tapped two fingers against his temples before continuing.

"If you even hinder us in our investigation I know of many things people of your stature couldn't even think of, so before you decide to stick your nose into other people's lives, I suggest you tidy up your own because, not only are you on the very precipice of your career, but your son is falling into a bad crowd, the kind of which you've based your life work to put away." Charles grinned mischievously now. "So please, I usher you to continue to dissuade me. Just try it."

* * *

><p>When Erik returned with Moira a few seconds later, Charles was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Erik traded a glance with Moira and they rushed over to the scientist. Moira carefully knelt down beside Charles, casting Erik a cautious glance, before whispering to the scientist.<p>

"Charles?" She asked slowly. "Are you okay, hun?"

Charles tilted his head back and breathed in slowly, his eyes barely opening before widening all at once. "Um... you said a few minutes?" Charles drowsily whispered back. Moira laughed gently as she tried to comb Charles' hair back into a suitable disarray. Charles smiled wearily and glanced at his watch. "Shit, it's four fifty." Charles mumbled and Moira smiled apologetically.

"How much paper work do you have left?" Moira asked gently, helping Charles up.

"A lot" was the sleepy reply.

"Hn, well I'll pick up Raven if you like, we haven't had a girl-chat in a while." Moira grinned. "And you go finish your paper work and go home and _sleep_ for once." Moira jokes, handing the dazed and more than half-asleep Charles to the silent Erik beside her. "Erik, take him back to Division X. I think that, as long as you're with him, you'll be able to enter. _Do not let him fall asleep on the ride there._" Moira emphasized, glaring at the taller detective. Erik only raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Erik began the slow procedure of moving them both out of the room when Moira's voice called out from behind them.

"And if you meet a tall, rugged guy there, that's probably Stark: don't laugh, don't acknowledge his jokes, and whatever he says, _he and Charles are nothing other than friends!_"

* * *

><p>Keeping Charles awake in the ten minute ride to Division X was harder than Erik thought. First of all, he had to literally drag the scientist out of the building, seeing as he was well past the point of dazed walking. It was hard to ignore the all-too close face by his neck, taking deep breaths and murmuring little nothings against him. His hand was tight around the scientist's waist, hauling him here and there, to and fro until they finally, <em>finally<em> made it to Erik's busted up black mustang.

When they had entered, Charles was leaning against the window, making as if to sleep against it.

"So tell me, Charles," Erik cleared his throat, glancing at Charles and back to the road. "What is the strangest case you've worked on?" There was a moment of silence before Charles yawned and stretched, fixing that dazed, mostly sleepy blue gaze on the detective.

"What?" Charles was the _epitome_ of innocence and sheer confusion; his eyes where half lidded and glazed over with sleepiness, hair tussled and clothes untidy, a light flush on cheeks and his pink lips twisted into the cutest pout.

Erik focused all his energy on staring at the road.

"I asked you what the strangest case you've ever worked on was," Erik retold," I hear your division constantly takes on...strange and unusual cases. So, what's the top one? Or at least weird enough." Erik spared Charles another glance before clearing his throat and staring straight ahead at the road. Charles had rested back against the seat and slipped off his sweater, his shirt hiking up slightly with the movements.

"About...three months ago," Charles mumbled, trying to untangle the sweater from his arms. "A girl was kidnapped, Katherine Pryde, or Kitty, and the police had no leads, no anything really. Odd case, she disappeared from the car as it was speeding through the road. The driver said that when he looked back, the girl had actually been _sinking_ into the seat." Charles yawned once more, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

"They tested the driver for any drugs and things like that but he was clean. He was the only one awake in the van at the moment and there were no leads or anything." Charles folded the sweater on his lap and shook his head. "It was hard for them to even think of what happened and when they duped the case on my division they had the _fucking nerve_ to tell us to solve it in a week. A _week_, Erik!" Charles whined, the pout returning to his lips. "Idiots." Erik bit back a snort of laughter.

"Apparently the girl had somehow diffused through the car, hit the road at speeds of at least sixty miles per hour and was knocked unconscious, actually kidnapped and then diffused through the bonds on her hands and feet, through the wall of the wooden shack she had been hidden in and met up with the newest member of _Cerebro_, Douglas Ramsey, a brilliant young man with the knowledge of every language available, I mean, he can speak Sumerian, Erik. That's just incredible!" Charles noticeably brightened up.

"Oh, well they met, he drove her for a while before realizing she was Kitty and then he brought her here, case solved." Charles shrugged.

"That doesn't sound unusual. How is it that she got lost in the first place? How did she 'diffuse' through these solid objects?" Erik asked, noting the way Charles was finally waking up.

"Ah, it was a theory in Quantum physics, since molecules of solid objects are always vibrating, what we touch and feel is the force pushed back at us from the vibrations, what I theorized was that her cells and body had managed to find the right frequency of vibration so that her molecules passed through the small spaces between the vibrating molecules of the car seat, the ropes and then the wood." Charles rubbed his eyes and grinned at Erik. "It's quite incredible, the mutation she carries, she allowed me to sample her DNA and it was...amazing. It's quite the groovy mutation."

Erik laughed, unable to repress the warm chuckle that had been bubbling in his chest. "_Groovy, _really Charles, you're a few fifty years behind on slang there, my friend." Charles laughed, too, and Erik found himself drawn by the hearty sound.

"Yes, well I was really, _really_ happy they had handed us the case, the police department wouldn't have been able to solve this case otherwise." Charles tilted his head back, hands fidgeting on his lap. "It did take us eight days, and Stryker was fussy about that. I guess it's another thing to add to the list of reasons why I dislike the man." Charles' demeanor became stern before lighting up once more.

"Oh? You're not quite taken with the Sergeant?" Erik teased lightly, raising a brow. Charles flushed an adorable pink before turning his head.

"No. He's an ass and a deplorable man that doesn't deserve his rank." Charles mumbled, still looking out the window. They had just entered the parking lot into the Facility. "He tries to control everyone with fear-induced respect and does what he wants, when he wants. He's like a level one Megalomaniac." Charles sighed. "He tried to convince me not to give you clearance today." Charles whispered. He saw Erik's hands tighten on the steering wheel before Erik grated out a low 'oh'. "Yes, well given what I told him I doubt he'll be bothering either of us for a while."

Erik turned, clearly surprised. "What did you _tell_ him?" Was the incredulous question.

"Nothing too bad, I admit, but I do believe he's under the impression that I read minds."

* * *

><p>Erik was more than impressed at Division X. Charles had managed to get him instant clearance, past the <em>Labia<em> and there they were, standing side by side the the large room, waiting for any of the twelve doors to open with that familiar ding. Charles found himself, once more, bothered by the time spent waiting for an elevator, any of _twelve_ to rise through three stories. Really, it was _ridiculous_. They were silent out of the car and the quite had seemed to follow the two into the building. Charles felt his usual curiosity piqued at the box Erik held in his hands, obviously lacking any metal with the passage through the detector.

The elevator beside Charles opened, occupied by one man.

_'Oh god'_ Charles mentally groaned as they entered the small compartment, trapped between Erik and Tony. "Tony, I thought you wanted to day off?" Charles asked, tense as Tony smirked in Erik's direction."It's already past five, you don't tend to stay here so long."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Pepper was nagging me back home, so I came here instead." Tony turned to Erik, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Still hiding out that warrant."

"You say this with a law officer in the vicinity." Charles quirked a smile. "Your know-how never ceases to amaze me." Erik smirked beside him.

"Well, there's that and I wanted to meat the infamous _Erik "The Shark" Lehnsherr._ You have garnered quite the hard-boiled cop reputation amongst the workers in the Hive. I'm quite surprised they didn't frisk you. I think I heard some of the female employees claiming that they'd give a small fortune to give you a very thorough _cavity search_"

Charles cursed the extremely slow elevator. Really, it's just going down _two bloody_ floors. It shouldn't take this long.

"Ah. I take it you are Tony Stark." Erik nodded to himself. Tony raised a brow and looked at Charles, who was staring at the elevator doors, as if willing the contraption to go faster. "I heard a lot about you."

"All good I suppose."

"They sell your sarcasm and arrogance short, Stark." Erik's smirk returned.

Tony looked at Charles, surprised, and grinned madly. "You've got yourself a good one here, Charles."

Charles had the self-respect not to face palm then and there.

The elevator couldn't have stopped at such an opportune moment, and Charles rushed out of the elevator, Erik not far behind, and Stark rushing to catch up. He was almost out of breath when he finally made it to his desk, only to gawk at the _lack of paperwork_. He could have sworn to have had at least three dozen stacks of demonic files to sign and file but alas! They had all gone away.

"A problem, Charles?" Tony purred, slipping on his lab coat. "I took the liberty of helping you out, and in return-"

"In return I don't fire you for all your slip ups? And the 98% probability that something exploded in the danger room because of you?" Charles retorted, amused. Tony's grin fell and he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, well it wasn't exactly my _fault_, per se, me and McCoy where testing out a droid and apparently something in the chemical foundation for it's energy capsule was missing or _I don't know what_ and it maybe...sort of...just _slightly_ imploded on itself."

Charles simply stared.

Erik raised a brow from beside Charles.

"Just a _wee_ bit." Stark added with a slight nod, his finger pinched almost together.

"Well clean up your mess and you can stay in the back room until the heat dies down and you can walk the light of day." Charles amended, and Tony let out a sigh of relief. He took his leave, walking in a brisk pace to the small hallway before opening the first door on the left.

Erik didn't comment on the shouts and smaller explosions that rang through the lab.

"Well this was a waste of time." Charles sighed, turning to Erik. "Sincerest apologies."

"Not at all" Erik nodded, shifting the box in his hands before remembering why he had come along. "Yes, right. Here's the vial of the blue liquid found in the scene." Erik handed Charles the box, who only reached forward and quirked a brow.

"It's a box, Erik." Erik rolled his eyes.

"It's a glass vial, Charles, and fragile. It's in the box." Charles grinned as he opened the box. He slipped the fragile glass vial out and placed it on his desk.. It was about four inches long, an inch in thickness with the pristine blue liquid filling it almost completely. The sweet fragrance was filling the space fast, and Charles turned to slip on some latex gloves before moving the bottle, inspecting the thin yet strong capsule."It was inspected for prints but forensics couldn't find a thing. Can you figure out what it is?" Erik spoke up, standing closer to the desk than before.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>They walked briskly down the small hallway until they met a dead end with a door. Charles held the vial in his palm as he turned to Erik.<p>

"This is the _Gardens, _where our Botanist works." Charles nodded towards the door. "Miss Pamela Isley is known around here as _Poison Ivy_, her skills with plants are incredible, and she's on the brink of creating a kind of that never loses it's minerals and vitamins, changing it's composition in order to have any plant thrive." Charles grinned widely again. "If this really is nectar, or some kind of plant extract, she'll know."

Charles opened the door, and Erik gasped in surprise.

It was like a wide jungle, full of lush, green trees, long grass and blooming flowers of various colors and tints. He followed Charles wordlessly, gaping at eh amount of _life_ that was flourishing around him.

It was beautiful.

"Miss Isley!" Charles grinned as they approached the hidden desk deep into the Garden. "I have something I would like for you to look at, if you would, please." Pamela Isley looked up from her writings and looked at Charles with deep emerald green eyes hidden behind reading glasses, tucking a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear. She was wearing a form-fitting aqua dress beneath her standard lab-coat. She stood up quietly and embraced Charles, much to Erik's chagrin.

_Wait-what?_

Charles laughed and handed Pamela the glass vial, and the young woman shifted the glasses before her eyes before glancing up at Charles.

"It's a _Centaurea cyanus_, commonly known as _Cornflower, Bachelor's button, Bluebottle, Boutonniere flower, Hurtsickle, Cyani flower, _it's endangered in it's most typical enviroment because of _pesticides_" She spat out the word like acid. "It's on the endangered list; this here," Pamela shook the little glass vial,"is extract of a combination of the pigments found in the actual buds and pollen; it's generally believed that Cornflowers hold some kind of secretive ailment and is commonly used in teas and such." Pamela eyed the glass vial critically. "It looks just about ready to be used in some kind of experiment..."

"Thank you so much, Miss Isley, and if you want you can keep the vial" Charles smiled at Pamela's excited expression. "When you have more info on it, come find me."

"Of course, _Professor_." Pamela teased, watching the two leave before returning to her notes.

* * *

><p>"So it's-cornflower extract?" Erik surmised, following Charles back to his desk. Charles nodded and sat in his chair, fixing Erik with an unreadable stare. "That doesn't help much, does it?"<p>

"Quite the contrary, it helped quite a bit." Charles nodded, opening his desk and removing the case's folder form the mess in the drawer. "You see, if the flower was endangered then it lowers the number of places it can be found; and the killer is clearly a man of science."

"_Clearly?_ Charles, just how did you come to that conclusion?" Erik asked complacently, bending to meet Charles' eye level.

"Well, the way the vial was made, and how it had been heat treated, treated with the knowledge that it would be met with high tension, made it clear that the vial would be needed in an experiment-and dangerous at that." Erik almost gawked; Charles had gotten _all of that_ with just a look at the vial? Incredible. Erik found himself somehow drawn to the other man's wise ways. It was a little unnerving how..._attractive_ he found that. " And the Greys _were_ professors, but John Grey was a history professor, and Elaine Grey was an ex-art professor. The people that lived around them have no means of gaining such a thing like the evidence, it _must have belonged to the killer._"

"So he's a scientist." Erik nodded, his heart racing at the revelation.

It wasn't a main suspect.

But they had narrowed it down.

"I spent the night getting information on the victims" Charles admitted, almost shyly. "Which resulted in lack of sleep. My sister was furious." He could almost hear Raven shouting at him to wake up that morning. He cringed and continued. "Um, thank you, by the way, for helping me." Charles blushed koily, and Erik found himself leaning forward almost unconsciously.

Their eyes met.

Charles' breath caught in his throat.

Erik leaned forward, eyes glancing between the clear blue eyes and those delicious pink lips.

Inches apart, their breaths mingled, scents tangling into an odd but sinful mixture.

Charles sighed.

Their lips brushed...

There was a clatter, a loud crash and the two turned around, wide eyed, blushing and wondering what the hell they were just doing before they caught sight of a shadowed form, broken glass and various fluids on the ground.

The alarm sounded at the hint of dropped chemicals, the lights turning into a bloody red. Erik hefted Charles up and they followed a battered and dirty Tony, Pamela, Doug and a few nameless faces following behind them. Through all of the turbulence of clearing out the area until hazmat arrived, Erik and Charles stood, stock-still and serious-faced in a crowd of murmuring scientists, thoroughly confused and worried at once.

_Was it the killer?_

_What where they doing?_

They were in danger. Everyone.

_What were they doing?_

The chemicals were dangerous, but thankfully they didn't react until all three had mixed together, a few minutes as the workers in _Cerebro_ were examined by the _Atrium _workers. They were all safe, save for a pair of them that had gotten only slight cuts on their body.

_What were they doing?_

It would be at least three days before they could enter the main lab; Pamela was glad her Garden was air tight against the lab and had an extra entrance. Charles glanced at Erik, their minds in sync. The scientists went home soon after; it was a few hours until they were free to go. The only one's who remained where Erik, Charles and Tony. Tony was already making plans for bunking at Charles' house, inviting Erik to come along, spewing things about 'teasing Raven', 'getting Sean drunk and in a dress _again_' and such, but when Erik and Charles' eyes met, they only had one thing in their mind.

_Was it a coincidence? Or was the killer on their trail?_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** UGH IFRIGGENHATESCHOOL but I do get to talk to my muse\\sister and get more ideas so...fair-ish trade? Only it saps my writing time...TT^TT and If y'all want, I can post up my crappy summaries that I send to my muse about the chapter LOL they're really, really random XD They're guaranteed to make you smile :P (And Note: It's AU so Scott isn't related to Alex :I )

* * *

><p>They had all parted ways in silence, and even as Tony forced Charles to get into his cherry red Ferrari, Charles hadn't said a word in rebuttal. It seemed Erik had also been stricken with the gravity of the moment and left in a roar of engine without another word. Tony, too, is silent, eyes on the road the entire half-hour trip to Charles' home. Charles is thankful, watching dazed as the city and then some country rushes by the window, accompanied by some lamp posts that threaten to blind him with their fiery glow.<p>

When they finally turn and pull into the Xavier mansion's driveway, it's a half past eleven, the night is crisp and clear, the stars are shining bright and-

Raven is standing in the front door, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed and her hands on her hips, looking almighty pissed.

Shit.

Tony flinches at the sight of the blonde haired, deep honey eyes flaring from the distance. They'd better come up with a good excuse, and quick, because an angry Raven is just _terrifying_.

They parked the Ferrari in the driveway before the entrance and got out, doors slamming and footsteps scrambling up to the glaring blonde. For a second it seemed as if Raven wanted to shout something but had stopped herself midway, lips parted and eyes narrowed at the two co-workers. They stop, shoulder to shoulder, as if on the front line of a looming battle-all tense shoulders, heavy silence and darting eyes.

"Okay, FIRST OF ALL you didn't call, text or contact me in any way! What the hell was that about, Charles!" Raven snapped, then turned to Tony, who visibly paled and gulped. "And _you_, the cops came by last night, thinking you where here!" Raven looked exasperated. "I told them to get the hell away, that you weren't welcome after that _last_ stunt you pulled with Alex!

"And then the lab-oh _god_ I got a call from Moira saying that there was a chemical spill in the lab and _you never called_ you bastard!" Raven's eyes shined with unshed tears. "I was just so, so worried, and it was like-like you were _Brian_ and-" Raven got cut short when Charles took the two steps that separated them and embraced his younger sister. Raven tensed for a quick second before relaxing in the hug, her arms rising shakily to hold Charles close to her by his shoulders.

"Raven, I promise that nothing bad will happen to me; I'll try to raise the safety standards around the lab, figure out who was responsible and punish them accordingly." Charles moved and pressed their foreheads together, their eyes meeting. "I won't leave you. I won't go like Brian did."

* * *

><p>They entered the living room in silence once more; Tony knew better than to be idiotic when the name of Brian Xavier was mentioned. It was not <em>taboo<em>, per se, more of... a solemn moment they had all shared that irrefutably bonded them together-while simultaneously casting them apart. All in all, it was understandable that, when they entered the kitchen, the three young ones at the table looked up and quickly glanced away.

"Ah, Sean; Alex. Angel, too. There are no classes tomorrow?" Charles pipped up, sending them a wry little grin. Alex scowled and turned away, clearly not to be taken by the up-beat tone, but Sean grinned from ear to ear, his freckles covered in a light flush.

"Nope! None at all, Professor!" Sean chirped, looking extremely glad. "I passed my math mid-term, a-thank-you, and Alex doesn't start his English 135 until Monday; the Doc gave Raven the next two days free and Angel's next class isn't until Monday, too." Sean nodded towards the three as he spoke of them. Charles and Tony stood side by side, an air of terse aloofness straining between them.

"So, I have a feeling I'll regret this, but what do you plan on doing?" Charles presses on, looking between the four student's beaming faces.

"Well we're tired and it's already late at it is so we where thinking of just staying here, have a little _fun-_" Alex began, his lips curling into a malicious grin.

"Fine. Only, I have a few rules." Charles stated, ignoring all the groans. "One: Don't let Tony pour drinks, like, ever." They all nodded in agreement. "NO burning things, so Alex give me your lighter. No screaming, and that means you Sean; Please don't go to the roof, Angel, and Raven? Don't put the boys in a dress. That goes for you too, Tony." Charles turned to Tony, face stern. "And Most importantly: _don't let Tony make the drinks!_" Charles joked and turned slowly to the stairwell. "Well, since that's all then I think I'll head to bed. Good night to you all." Charles smiled pleasantly and bowed his head, making for the stairs.

A chorus of 'good nights' (and one 'bonne nuit' from a grinning Angel) followed Charles up the flight of stairs.

Charles sighed, sore, weary and confused, his steps loud in the silence around him. His eyes closed as he traveled by instinct down the long hallway, his head throbbing just an octave bellow intolerable. He came face-to-face with a dark brown door and twisted the handle and shoved forward. The brisk steps into the darkness were met with dull echoes, but upon stopping a few feet into the room the gentle pattering continued. Charles rolled his eyes, flicked on the light and turned to face Raven just outside the doorway.

"Raven, I do think I'm much to old to be tucked in." Charles joked. Raven, however, remained stoic and serious as she entered the barely lit room.

"Charles, I'm your sister." Raven deadpanned.

"Really? I must have missed that teensy fact." Charles rolls his eyes.

"Yes, and I _know_ when something is wrong. So tell me, What's up?" Raven follows Charles as he walks deeper into the room, sitting at the edge of his bed. Raven walks and leans against the dresser on the adjoining wall, watching intently as Charles sighs and leans back.

"I've taken up on some field-work and such. Stryker put me on this homicide case." Charles starts but stops, thinking over the next few words. He knows how Raven will react, but it's much better to tell her _now_ than _later. _"And my partner is one Erik Lehnsherr." Charles' eyes shut tightly, jaw clenching at the next shouts and\or squeals. Raven remains silent, much to Charles' surprise.

She's still leaning against the dresser, arms pulled back and palms flat on the far end of the wooden surface. Her lips are quirked in a near mischievous smirk and her eyes are gleaming against the light's dull pearly glow. Charles feels somewhat uneasy at the reaction, and had honestly thought a full-blown barrage of innuendo and dirty, tasteless jokes where about to be spewed.

The silence was...unnerving, to be honest.

* * *

><p><em>She didn't think she could get any happier. <em>

_The ring on her finger gleamed in the artificial lighting of the dark street, causing the engraved message to shine fiery in the darkness. Her eyes where spilling with tears, cheeks flushed and her lips spread in the widest smiles._

_Katherine Anne Was crying, bawling really, as Christopher got up off his knees, still holding her free hand, and raised to his full height. Katherine wound both of her arms around Christopher's neck and they kissed, deeply and sweetly, so touching that more tears sprang to her eyes. They stayed in a tight embrace, just like that: Katherine in her skin-tight emerald dress, smeared make-up and her heels scattered on the concrete beside them and Christopher in his full-arm cast, dirty knees and black button up shirt._

_"I would be honored to be Misses Katherine Anne Summers..."_

* * *

><p>"It's fate!" Raven grins, jumping onto the bed beside Charles. "It's destiny! It was written in the <em>stars<em>-"

"Or maybe Life is Ironic in the _douchiest_ of ways?" Charles pipes up and Raven breaks into a fresh peal of laughter.

"Honestly, Charles, Why can't you see that you two are meant for each other?" Raven asks, serious now. Charles sighs as he rubs his face, weary and worn and just about ready to call it a night. "Come to terms with all the signs that are being tossed at you and just go and-and..._elope_ or something. Go fornicate in Hawaii or some shit-somewhere without murder or science or labs or Tony Stark." Raven sighs and lays back, arms pressed together as the two watch the ceiling in rapt interest.

"It doesn't..._Christ,_ it doesn't _work like_ that, Raven." Charles starts and already sounds exasperated. His blue eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with sleep, still staring blankly ahead. "I mean, I don't even _know_ the man, other than some general little things. I didn't even read his case file..." Charles yawns and turns his body to face his sister. His eyes drearily take in the dark navy long-sleeve shirt and the dark blue jeans. She's wearing their late-mother's necklace, and Charles thinks in the back of his mind that Raven's probably worn it more than their mother ever had.

"It's work and it's a-a conflict of interests." Charles nods slowly, and Raven turns, too, to watch him in silence. "We have people depending on our work and if we can't work together on this case then things can go awry. I can't let petty, childish emotions to get in the way." Raven looks on the verge of wanting to speak but Charles interrupts. "And to be honest, I don't think we're on the _best_ of terms. And we-we..."

"What is it, Charles?" Raven whispers, brushing a brown curl from Charles' visage.

"...we almost _kissed._"

* * *

><p><em>They're kissing in the middle of the street, under the warm orange glow of the traditional lamp-post. Now, Katherine doesn't consider herself a person whose had many kisses, a few boyfriends and some stray lip-locking here and there, but in all honesty this is probably the best kiss she's ever had. It has all the passion, all the love that they share in one single moment, and all around them the world blurs and sharpens, looms far away and in stunning clarity.<em>

_Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she notes the shifting shadow behind her husband-to-be._

_But Christopher tilts his head a little and presses closer and-oh, damn-she's lost in the kiss once more._

_The gently blowing wind causes the leaves to shimmer in some elaborate dance, the bone-dry limbs to grind together in a cacophony of clatter and chilling grinds, just loud enough to hide the faint steps coming closer, closer..._

* * *

><p>Emma rolled her eyes at the sound of the door slamming, the windows rattling in response to the hard shutter that ran through the house at the force. She fluffs her blonde hair and turns her icy blue eyes to the entrance and gets an eye full of a very angry and shaken looking Erik. Now, Emma knows it's not right to pry. Actually, she prefers not to. But-for a trained psychologist, it's hard to NOT see the signs of what her stoic brother is feeling-from the terse set of his shoulders, his fiery hazel eyes, the hardly noticeable flush, slightly skewed hair and rumpled appearance.<p>

He's angry, at someone and himself; stressed at work (no surprise there, Emma has met the every _charming_ William Stryker. It took at least three officers to stop her from killing the man in one of the office parties), a little embarrassed and -she twitches reflexively- slightly aroused.

"How was work?" Emma asks sweetly, a plastic smile plastered on her face.

"Skrew off, Em" Erik growls, making his way into the kitchen. Emma watches, bemused, as Erik opens a cupboard and pulls out a bottle of Jack by the neck.

"How flattering, hun, but we're family and I'm ashamed to say that _incest_ is illegal in this state." She teased and Erik's low chuckle reached her even as she turned away to file away her work. "Now, sit your ass down on that nice, lumpy old couch in the corner and tell me your woes."

"Em, your off work, stop trying to be my personal psychologist."

"Erik, sweety, I can hear your scowl from here." Emma threw her head back and sighed, eyes closed. Her straightened out her silky blouse and wiped invisible dust from her white pajama pants. "So sit down and tell me what's wrong because, honestly, slamming everything and being all grumpy grates my nerves. Sit. Down." Upon noticing actual movement somewhere in the vicinity Emma cracked open an eye and smiled. "I don't work for free, Hun, get me a glass too."

Erik grumbles under his breath, a litany of various tongue's curses and maybe a little English "fuck" in the mix, yet Emma immediately recognizes the chilled, perspiring glass of whiskey and ice that presses against her open palm. She casts Erik a little glance as he falls on the old black couch, looking older than he ever has, yet...there's something there, making him seem like he's ten years younger as well. She hasn't seen that look on her brother in years-not since...well, since she can _remember_, actually.

The look suits him, really.

"How was work?" Emma starts sweetly, eying the already melting ice cubes bobbing in the amber liquid of the crystal cup. "Stryker finally pull that stick form his ass?" This causes Erik to scoff and half chuckle.

"No, that's a little too deep in there, but I got a new case. You heard about the Grey's murders?" Erik asks offhandedly. He takes a slow swig of his drink, eyes drifting closed as the familiar burn tingles down his throat.

"Yes, I have." Emma seems to be more in-tune to the conversation, her lazy posture shifting up higher, straightening to attention. "Their poor daughter, Jean-she's the newest in my wing, Catatonic, can't speak, won't even eat and-the poor thing, all she does is sit there and cry silently; it's truly..." Emma pauses, something akin to sadness flashes in her dull blue eyes as she meet's Erik's unwavering gaze," ...heartbreaking." She finishes in a small whisper.

''Really? She was only barely mentioned in the case file, I'll need to make a visit-oh, well Stryker decided that it'd be best to give me a partner on the case, since he's already solved the first clue the murderer gave" Erik nods and places the glass on top of the dark wooden coffee table between himself and his sibling.

"A partner?" A thin blonde eyebrow raises in disbelief. "Really, is Stryker trying to get on your bad side?" Both eyebrows raise in mock-sympathy. "And who would this poor soul be?"

The silence that surrounds them sucks all playfulness from Emma's demeanor.

"Erik?"

Silence.

"Erik. Who. Is. Your. Partner?"

Erik scowls and Emma rolls her eyes. For being a thirty-two year old man, and homicide detective above all, Erik has a way of reverting to a bashful, rebellious teen with a secret when prodded non-too-gently.

Well, tough shit for him; Emma is really, _really_ tired and can't be bothered with being nice.

"Despite what you think," Emma almost growls, annoyed of the silence," scowling is _never_ an option. Now, are you going to speak up? Because your grumpy-ass is very annoying and I'm plenty tired, so can you just tell me their name?" Emma sighs, sinking lower into the soft recliner. Erik seems to be lost in thought and right as Emma is going to spew a few _not so pleasant_ choice words, he breaks the silence himself.

"...Charles."

Oh.

Well that...

That changes _everything_.

* * *

><p><em>They hadn't known that there was someone in the street, and in all honesty why would someone want to interrupt a very sensitive moment? Katherine can't even fathom what has just happened, and the look of utter shock on Christopher's face-it's ingrained on every brain cell, plastered in the darkness when she blinks and-<em>

_ There are arms, long and lean with muscle, not too strong but just strong enough, and they're wrapped around Christopher's neck, dragging and pulling him away with sharp jerks. Katherine wants to scream but in one swift movement there's something against Christopher's neck, pressed precariously above the thrumming vein on his throat that's pulsing rapidly with each quick heartbeat, bouncing faster and faster._

_ "Don't. Speak."_

_ It's low, harsh and yet there's a hint of uncertainty in the voice, in the bloody command._

_ Katherine swallows and shivers, trying to catch a good look at the assailant for if-when- they escape._

_ What she sees shocks her._

* * *

><p>"Tough shit." Emma rasps, after having downed her whole cup, the cold cubes pressing against her lips. "Solve the case and it'll all be over, right?" Emma glances up quickly and blanches at the blank expression on Erik's face. His eyes burn with a whirl of emotions-Emma can practically read the anguish and pain, the regret and insecurities. "WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!" Emma snaps. "You haven't moved on? It was a fling, hun, a drunking fling that happened...twice, I give you that, but a drunken almost-hook up" Emma breaths in gently, trying to calm the urgency to-well, do something (and if she won't hit her brother then she'll yell at him).<p>

Erik's face is the epitome of confusion-and Emma thinks to herself that maybe these are all things that Eik has been telling himself for weeks. He's fighting himself, she notes, as waves of sadness\\anger flashing through his eyes, despite his stoic appearance.

"Erik..did you honestly think he'd be with you after you shunned him, and now that you're working together did you just think that he'll drop all work ethics to be with you, who is technically a stranger?" Emma, despite her smooth voice and passive features, is hurting inside for her brother. She knows, knows that he himself is hurting because she's studied the human mind, those little giveaways of a person's inner workings, and everything shows that he's a thorough mess inside.

And Erik? Erik knows that she's right. Only, he honestly likes Charles but knows that it's impossible to be with him since they are like strangers. Charles probably doesn't even remember him, what the scientist has done for him, what that moment, almost 15 years before has done to Erik and helped him move forward in his life. It's a memory Erik treasures, and has since that day. They almost kissed today, that means something, right?

Right?

...right?

(Why doesn't anyone answer him?)

"Well, maybe," Emma sighs, standing up and stretching. "Maybe it actually means something." She loves her brother, really, and as a personal friend of Charles she can see the compatibility as clear as day. She's decided to cut him some slack. (But just a little bit. And Only today, she reminds herself.) "You know I'm not an advocate of fate and those silly tales but maybe this is destiny?" Emma's lips are tinted with a slight smirk as she presses a kiss to Erik's forehead. "That or Stryker just really, really loves being an ass-hole."

"Well it's barely been one day." Erik nods, standing up before his sister. "Maybe the tension will wear off?" Emma shakes her head fondly as Erik tries to be optimistic. "And we've made excellent progress on catching the killer."

_Erik has never-_

"It's only a matter of time"

_-ever been-_

"Things will get better"

_-very good-_

"We're so close to catching him"

_-at being optimistic._

* * *

><p><em>It takes a moment for Katherine to realize that the man-the assailant, is muttering, speaking under his breath against the ear of her fiance; she can't focus on the attacker or the blade, all she can see, all that she <span>does<span> see is the fear in those hazel eyes, silently begging her to leave, get away, be strong for the two of them but she can't, she just can't, and the man is standing there, looking at her with fierce, crazed honey eyes._

_"You-it's people like you that make me sick to the pit of my stomach!" He growls, arm tightening across Christopher's throat, only a slight twitch away from completely strangling the man. The hand holding the scalpel is shaking ever so slightly against the column of exposed flesh. "You spew your lies about love, like you know the meaning of the word, as if you actually feel it but you lie! Lie!" And Katherine would be terrified if not for the tears spilling past the wide eyes, carving down his cheeks like hot wax. _

_And Christopher is looking at her, sending a silent message to flee, to leave and Katherine can't move, can hardly breath, and it's like she's stuck in the middle of an arctic sea, chilled in the brisk air, numb and unable to move a limb or even blink._

_"P-Please" Christopher rasps out, tilting his head just so, locking eyes with his assailant. The amber eyes bore into the hazel ones, dull and lifeless as a final tear falls past the now stoic face._

_"There is no mercy. Not for me. Not for you."_

_And then He's moved out of Katherine's line of sight, which is really only Christopher. She watches in mute anguish as an angry red line begins to form, and a rapid stream of blood begins to pour from the wound, between the fingers now clutching the laceration. His body is crumpled on the floor, curling into itself as wet, gurgling noises bubble from the throat of the dying man. Each intake of breath is like another wound, another knife piercing his skin, his lungs, his throat until he stops moving, stops breathing._

_Katherine looks on, and it hasn't been a long time, not even ten minutes but it feels like mere seconds, and she can still see those eyes offering her strength despite the fact that they're staring at nothing, and she can still hear those silent words of strength despite the gurgling, despite the fact that Christopher is silent and there are tears-how long has she been crying?- and she can't stop the earth-shattering shriek that breaks free from her throat._

_The sound is drowned out by pain, sharp and stinging, in her abdomen, and she notes the man covering her view of her fiance, of her future-husband. He's speaking in some foreign language, the dull part of Katherine's mind notes, taken aback at the sudden coppery tang of blood rising in her mouth. Only, he's is speaking, and she understands what he is saying behind the curtain of darkness and pain that's descended heavily upon her._

_"Love, you don't know what love is, you don't know that there's someone waiting for you, waiting for you to notice that they love you, they'd die for you. Tell me, did you love him?" The blade is stopped from further breaching her body by a shaky hand, the blade trapped between two long, elegant fingers, as if trying to stem the warmth that is seeping out from her body while holding the blade at the same time. "Does it kill you inside knowing that he won't look at you again? That he won't whisper sweet nothings into your ear, he won't ever kiss you again, won't hold you in his arms?" The man snarls as Katherine gasps, more tears falling. She doesn't cry for herself, though, she cries for Christopher. "How does it feel knowing that I've taken him from you?"_

_"N-No I-" A wince, a gasp, and Katherine continues," I l-love him and you-you c-can't, couldn't..." Katherine's eyes close and she sees him there, stretching out his hand, a smile on his lips, his eyes full of warmth and adoration, telling her without words that he needn't give her strength, he's there and he will be her strength. She takes his hand and he whispers a small 'love you', contrary to the wet gurgling she hears in the back of her mind, with the promise that he'll take her away from this, from the tears, from the pain._

_"You can't...could never...take him from..from m-me." Katherine smiles, already disconnected from her body even as they both fall to their knees together. "-ou...take 'em...me" Katherine repeats, just for an extra measure, and as she surrenders to the comfort of her husband's embrace she hears the killer cry out, over and over again._

_"Oh god-Charles! Charles! Charles! Char-"_

* * *

><p>"We practically have this case solved." Erik tells Emma, who rolls her eyes and walks into her room, closing the door behind her.<p>

_xXxXx_

"We'll catch this man, no matter what." Charles whispers and Raven smiles at him sweetly from the doorway as she slowly closes the door behind herself.

"Of course."

* * *

><p><em>He can't see past the film of tears that blur his vision, can't speak past the bile rising in his throat and the self-loathing that's taking control of his body and mind.<em>

_So he moves his fingers through the thick maroon, tracing patterns in scarlet besides the woman, and a tear falls beside the first symbol, the third fourth fifth and finally the last symbol._

_By the time the first witness comes the tears are drying. The blood is still running._

_When the first siren roars to life the tears have dried. The bodies are barely losing their heat._

_And he is long gone._

* * *

><p>Charles is tossing and turning in his sleep, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The bed and his body aren't the problem, though; Charles can't seem to stop thinking, and his mind races with a million thoughts. He stares at the bland ceiling, as if willing the darkness to answer every question that buzzes around his mind.<p>

Miles away, Erik sits on the edge of his bed, eying the contents of the open folder on his desk guiltily, the turns his gaze back to the other, messier and far more rumpled folder he placed only seconds into entering his room.

Destiny.

Fate.

The two rub their faces and shake their heads.

Maybe.

Just _maybe..._

They're both...

a little...

_just a little_

A teeny bit,

_really, _

in over their heads;

In the case and their relationships, no matter how..._non-existent_ as it may be.

Besides, Charles never read Erik's folder, the one containing details about his past, his private life before entering, the background check that's customary in the task force.

_That doesn't mean Erik didn't read Charles'_

...

It's four in the morning when they get the call. Someone has linked two new victims into the case. It's urgent that they investigate the scene, and as they both struggle to contact the other, to change and get ready and get their heads back in the game.

More victims.

They've failed already.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I wrote this damn chapter out FOUR TIMES in two weeks, but decided it'd be nice to delete 3\4ths of it each time I saved and I got mad so I am very sorry that this is late :I


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